


The Flower Queen

by thefoxwoman



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Cults, Dark, Dark Haley, Horror, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Missing Persons, Multi, POV First Person, Psychological Horror, Set in the future, Sexual Content, Short Story, Threesomes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29505258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefoxwoman/pseuds/thefoxwoman
Summary: Welcome to Pelican Town. The sun is always shining. The Valley is full of plenty. The residents welcome you to partake in their cultural festivals. If you stay too long, you might end up staying forever.Haley is returning to the Valley after a long few years away. She is semi-professional filmmaker now, on assignment to track a missing person from her hometown. But being home feels strange this time. Haley is caught between memory and myth as she revisits each of her former neighbors.She begins to slip into a dream state, wondering if she ever left Pelican Town at all.**Cult AU. Because that Flower Dance has major Midsommar vibes.**
Relationships: Abigail/Haley (Stardew Valley), Alex & Haley (Stardew Valley), Elliott/Haley (Stardew Valley), Haley/Abigail/Sam (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Myth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We all have one foot in a fairytale, and the other in the abyss." 
> 
> -Paulo Coelho

There’s too much myth centered around what a producer’s office should look like. Sleek wood paneling, artful rug, a mahogany desk with a glass surface. Chic and workable. Airy. Bright. That’s not what greets me as I enter the shabby office, tucked away in one of many tall buildings in Zuzu City. It’s bathed in harsh overhead lighting, and the swivel chair I’m sitting in is taken from a different room. The carpet is patchy and stained, and I’m not about to ask with what. You could be talking about anything but filmmaking in this office. Divorce settlements, custody cases, tax filing, job prospects. The bleakness is endless.

The mustached man behind the messy desk slaps a paper down in front of me. It’s one of those local papers from a Podunk town, with Papyrus as the header font. It’s not the font that stops my heartbeat for a fraction of a second. It’s a photo of a young girl with dark violet hair and green ribbons staring back at me. 

I used to think that the female gaze was about touch. Women touching their hands and the camera centering on those brief moments. I was obsessed with it in film school, taking screenshots of hands placed on different parts of the body. Of touching, representing longing, representing a yearning that only female filmmakers knew how to portray. Lately though, I’ve been thinking about what the female gaze really is. A woman, a girl, staring straight into the camera, taking up space. Unflinching. Unapologetic. 

“Know her?” My editor asks. 

I’ve only been working for this small news company about a year. Mostly I’m filming b-roll for the stories that they produce. I trek equipment around the city and try to take an artful shot of an alleyway or something. There’s not a lot of beauty here, and my attempts at creating a masterful scene were always trashed anyways. Beauty gets in the way of the truth and all that jargon. 

“That’s a girl from my hometown.” I reply. 

“Pelican Town.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully, “What’s it like there?” 

“Boring. Trashy.” I respond. “Filled with family values, I suppose.” 

“What does that make you then?” he asks. 

“A boring, trashy outlier. I don’t have family values.” It’s true. I don’t. At least, not anymore. 

“This could be a big story for the company. Put us in the limelight.” He presses. I don’t encourage him. He thinks he’s unpredictable, but I know what follows next. 

“It’d be even more interesting to hear it told by a former, boring and trashy resident.” He finishes. 

I’m on the rickety bus two days later, headphones blasting Led Zeppelin. Scenery of mountains pass me by, and the air stops smelling so stale. I suppose this should feel like new life is starting to bloom from within me. Like I’m supposed to feel inspired by the mere sight of the valley as the bus winds through the evergreen hills. But nothing is inspiring when your current job is to go to your stifling hometown and make a feature length film about a missing girl. 

No one greets me at the stop for Pelican Town except a small weather worn sign and a few squirrels fighting over a nut. That’s exactly what I expected, since I didn’t tell anyone I’d be home. I have one bag for clothes, and another filled with camera equipment. I shoulder both and move towards the trail to town. Because to go anywhere in Pelican Town, is to take a fucking dirt path. 

It’s not long before the sweat is trickling down my shirt and I find myself in the town square. I put down my bags to take off my jacket and continue the rest of my journey in a black t shirt, jeans and lace up boots--my go to city outfit when I’m working. But of course, I’ve been spotted. 

“Holy hell, Haley is that you?” Wide shoulders, muscular arms, and a floppy head of brunette hair send me back to high school as Alex approaches. 

“Hey Alex, long time no see.” 

He wraps me in a bear hug, lifting my frame off of the cobblestones for a second. It's a comforting hug, but it's filled with sadness too. I don't Alex has ever stopped pitying me since the news. I guess it's a good way to take himself out of his own misery. 

“Are you back for good?” He asks excitedly. 

“Nah Alex, I’m here on work business.” 

There’s a too long moment as he processes what “work business” could mean, then a shadow falls like a curtain across his face as it sinks in. 

“You’re here to report on Jas.” 

“More publicity could give some support to this case.” 

“Maybe we don’t need support from outside.” He’s defensive, and I can tell that something here has changed. The whole atmosphere of the town has changed. I’m banking on that atmosphere for some darker moments in my filming. He’s apologizing for his rudeness now, but I’m picturing the interviews, how I’m going to set up each shot. He says something about meeting up later, and I mumble some sort of agreement. 

I eventually make it to my destination, and the sight of it is the only thing to pull me from planning out the documentary. The plants are all lined up in a row like always. The usual garbage can sits out front. A stone hanging carved in the shape of a sun is still over the door. Memories flood through me, two little girls running in and out of the house. The smell of freshly cut grass. A dirt clod fight with the boys next door. My mother. Her apron. A plane ticket. A living room filled with mourners in black. An empty house. 

“Haley?” 

I look up and there is the last surviving member of my family. Her hair is still blue, but there are bags under her eyes now. She looks thinner. 

“Hey Em, I’m home.” I say, walking into the cavern of 2 Willow Lane.


	2. Sister, Sister

The Saloon is mostly empty tonight. The quarters I inserted into the jukebox got a little stuck, so I had to hit the window a few times. The first few chords of Steve Miller Band whine out and I’m satisfied. Emily is at the bar, drying off a glass and pretending not to be watching my every move. I think it’s time to antagonize her in the way only younger siblings know how to do. 

“I’ll take a bourbon.” Leaning my elbows on the bar, “Neat.” 

“Since when…you know what, never mind.” She says, and pulls a bottle from the bottom shelf. She’s been testing me since I got back, asking why my nails are chipped and my hair is slung in a messy braid. I haven’t yet changed from my traveling clothes. Now she’s pouring me a well drink, thinking (or hoping) that my old behavior will lash out and I’ll magically become the person she grew up with again. 

I take a long sip, unflinching, then set down the glass. 

“So, tell me what’s been happening.” 

“Haley, this isn’t a good idea.” 

“Why not? Seems to me like you all could do with solving this case sooner rather than sit in the dumps forever.” 

“It’s different now, town. Not everyone is ready to talk.” 

“Even to their Flower Queen?” I’m joking, of course. But Emily is turning away, her shoulders settling after a long sigh. Something I’m noticing that she does often. 

It’s bright the next day and the combination of sunshine through the windows and a hangover is giving me a slight headache. Emily isn’t in the kitchen, or at her sewing machine, or even in her room. I’m too wiped to think about where she might have gone, so I draw a bath, plug in my headphones and sink into the warm water. 

I’ve made a list in my head with who I want to talk to first. Obviously, I need to reach Marnie and Shane before the town begins to spread gossip. Then, maybe Leah also, since they all live in that part of town. It’s not going to be easy. Nothing concerning Shane ever is. 

Hours later, I find that I’m right, of course. Since his response is a door slammed in my face. 

“Oh dear,” Marnie looks like she’s aged twenty years even though it hasn’t been that long since I’ve gone away. 

“Marnie, I just want to help.” 

“You were always such a sweet girl Haley. So pretty, so sweet.” 

The first interview is clunky and awkward. Marnie pauses a lot to sniff and blow her nose. She has tears welling up in her eyes. Straw and hay bales surround her. The mooing of cows is heard in the background. 

We’re interrupted by Mayor Lewis. He nearly blows a gasket when he sees my camera equipment. 

“Do you have authorization to film here?” He asks, incredulous. 

“I didn’t know I needed that.” 

“I need to see your press pass young lady. You need permits for this sort of thing.” 

“Thought I’d get a local discount.” I’m trying to be funny and charming, but it’s not working on Lewis anymore. I’m shuffled out of the house, told that I need to speak with Lewis before I interview anyone else in the town. 

There’s a scoff from a dark corner as I’m packing up my equipment. It’s Shane, beer can in hand, eyes bloodshot. 

“Coulda told you that woulda happened.”

“Then why didn’t you?” I shoot back. 

Outside, twilight brings the calls of frogs and owls. Fast dark shapes flutter in the edges of my vision, bats looking for insects to devour. They use a form of communication called echolocation. I think about that. What if I could call out, my echoes hitting a radar bleep, and listen for the response? Is that what it feels like, to call out for someone missing? I think about Jas, echoing back in her small, sweet voice. It’s getting dark now, I make my way back to Willow Lane, tracing the path of the river.


	3. Hydrate

“Look, Mayor Lewis, I don’t want any trouble with you.” I’m wearing a white shirt because I think it helps my innocent appearance. I brushed my hair out today, so it’s falling in soft waves. Anything to remind Lewis that I used to live here. That this is my home. 

“Alright Haley. You need to be careful with these people. Jas was special to everyone here.” As if I’m not ‘one of these people’ anymore, or that I didn’t babysit Jas as a teenager. He issues me a press pass (which is really, just an index card with his signature on it, but I tuck it into a plastic sleeve all the same.) 

I change gears and head to the opposite part of town. The empty ice cream stand stalls me for a minute. Melting cream, licking it off a stubble free face, slow smiles, soft embraces, a letterman jacket. Sometimes I’d give anything to be innocent and carefree again. When I would lay back on the warm sand of the beach and drink out of a coconut in the summertime. When the sunflowers would line the paths of town and I'd float around town in a new dress that Emily embellished for me. Bangles wound around my wrists making a bell like noise, nail polish on my toes like bright spots against a pointillism painting. The days that were warm and lazy, and you could lay in a patch of grass with the content that comes with a fresh mimosa and a sweet ice cream cone. 

The moment passes when a cloud covers the sun, casting the stand into shadow. Right. Missing girl. Assignment. 

Penny still looks perfect, little miss prim is now the librarian. She’s got her tiny frame behind a massive book, her eyes boring holes into whatever she’s reading. She doesn’t notice me as I walk up to the desk. 

“So, Gunther finally retied huh?” 

It takes her a moment to finish whatever she’s reading, before she slides a cool glance in my direction. 

“He’s passed on actually.” Like he was a ghost, just spending some downtime in Pelican Town. 

“Oh. I didn’t hear about that.” 

“How could you?” She’s not exactly accusatory, but I feel it all the same. 

I set up the frame with Penny surrounded by books and old, dead things. The library is also the town’s mini natural history museum, and there are skeletons and fossils stored there. I pick up a nautilus fossil and place it in front of Penny. 

“I was walking to Marnie’s to pick up Jas before heading over to get Vincent that day.” She’s speaking in a clipped tone, her words obviously rehearsed from when she had to detail this to the principal investigators. “I knew something was wrong when I saw Shane running from the forest. Marnie was already weeping, and he was carrying her green ribbon.” 

“How did the feeling hit you, when you found out?” 

Penny looks square at me. The female gaze, again. “Like a brick, tied to my ankles as I sink into the sea. I feel hopeless.” 

Hopeless is how I would describe the rest of the Pelican Town residents, as I begin to gather more interviews. There are long faraway looks that glaze in their eyes. There are rumors of monsters coming from the old mining caves. There are uglier rumors about Shane, inhabitants of the town theorizing that he might have had something to do with it. 

I look across the bar at where he’s sitting in a slump. He’s drinking whiskey tonight, on his fourth glass, I’ve been counting. I signal to Emily for my usual bourbon, and she pours me that and a glass of water. 

“Hydrate.” She says sternly. 

“Or die-drate.” I say, but she’s still not enjoying my new jokes. 

I chug the water first, then pick up my bourbon and make my way over to Shane. 

“So are you gonna tell em I did it?” he greets me pleasantly. 

“Of course not. I want them to hear it from your own mouth.” 

That brings a smirk from his lips. At least someone in Stardew Valley is catching on to my dark humor. 

“You’re not the same.” He says. 

“Is anyone?” I counter. 

“Sorry about your parents.” 

“Sorry about your niece.”


	4. Fairytale

There’s an old fairytale that my mom would read to Emily and me as a kid. A goblin fae, that snatches up children in the woods. It can take the form of any creature it wishes. It’s a trickster too, cunning and formative. It’s called the Pooka, and while it might seem like this demon runs around in the late fall, near All Spirit’s Eve, it actually begins its hunting in the spring. What a time to hunt, when everything is new and the earth feels reborn. I suppose that's why the Pooka is so quick to snatch up children then. There's nothing like the promise of eternal youth.

Part of me went to the Flower Dance every year thinking it’d be appeased by how well I would dance. That it wouldn’t take anyone from town. Not my friends or the kids. Because I was making the effort, I was showing the monsters who cared. I was the one they should pay attention to, and if the Pooka was going to take anyone from this town, it would be me. 

“I’m worried about you.” Emily says over a dinner of lentil stew. 

“I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re…not. You’re different.” 

“Different how?” 

“You’re not the sister I knew.” 

“And who was she?” 

“The one who still believed in fairytales and princesses.” 

“What makes you say I stopped believing in those things?” 

“What happened in the city Haley?” 

I want to tell her that I grew up, like she was always asking me to. That I can clean and cook for myself now. That the pain of losing our parents drove me into a space beyond myself. That it hurt when she withdrew, in her own grief and her own counseling. That it felt like I was doubly abandoned. That after a while, I needed to learn how to pick up the pieces of myself that were shattered across the floor of our two bedroom, two bathroom house. 

The next morning, the beach feels like it should be cold but it’s hot and sticky. Sweat is beading on the back of my neck, and I rub it away with my palm, slightly disgusted. I never liked sweating but it’s impossible not to. I am already feeling the stains beginning in my armpits as I spot Elliott. 

His overcoat’s dusty and he’s carrying a crab trap in one of his hands. He spies me quickly and gives me a short nod. I follow him into his rackety cabin. 

“This should only take a minute.” He gestures to the crabs he’s caught. 

“Mind if I film it?” 

“If it helps add to your project.” And then he begins the process of preparing them, a long knife and a pot of boiling water are brought out. 

It occurs to me, as I watch through my viewfinder, that Elliott has gone a little rogue. All traces of the polite gentleman are gone as he cracks open a crab shell with the blunt edge of a knife. 

“Do you believe in fairies and demons Elliott?” I ask him later, the scent of saltwater curling up in my nostrils and filling the dimly lit cabin. 

“I believe that there are forces we cannot explain.” He says carefully. His crab cakes are divine, and I tell him so between mouthfuls and sips of the bottle of wine that I gifted him. 

“You were always so pretty.” He tells me, his fingers tracing my cheek. “Like a princess from a land far away. This valley has always been too small for you.” 

His bed is old and musty, and I don’t like the way the sheets feel on my bare skin. It doesn’t matter, I guess, as he thrusts inside me and I let out an unholy moan. Afterwards, we’re both slick with sweat, smelling of crab and sex and wine. 

“Thanks for this.” I say, gesturing to my packed-up equipment bag as I pull my bra back on. 

I’m not sure if he responded, I’m already trekking across the sand. It’s gotten a little cooler, after the hours spent in that tiny cabin. I’m on the other side of the beach, across the plank and near the tidepools. I walk down the empty dock and set my bag down. I had been with Elliott for so long that the sun was starting to get low in the sky. 

I peel off my sticky clothes and kick off my boots. The ocean is a smooth, cool slap in the face when I dive in. I lay floating on my back for a while and think about the Little Mermaid. How could she give up such an incredible power for such a boring human?


	5. Sulfur

The mountains are the only respite from the stagnant summer air in town. There’s a breeze up there, that winds through the tunnels making a ghoulish sound. It’s fitting that as the sound is made, the resident town vampire stalks his prey. 

I’m embellishing and Sebastian is scowling at me, cigarette hanging between his fingers. 

It’s fine. I continue my set up, which these days consists of a tripod and a handheld camera. It’s getting difficult trekking across town with the whole bag. I’m not weak, but at some point, I guess I should care about the future of my joints. 

“I was with Sam and Abi that day.” Sebastian says. “We were in my room.” 

“Doing what?” I ask. I’m not curious, I’m definitely antagonizing him. 

He’s openly glaring at me. Openly glaring into the camera. Perfect. 

“I’m messing with you Sebby. Can I call you Sebby?” 

“I’m done with this interview.” He’s beginning to turn away, but I’ve got the perfect bait. 

“Is it true there are monsters in the mines?” 

The expression on his face is shockingly grave. 

“You don’t want to go in there to find out.” 

Ghoulish howls continue from the direction of the tunnels. I decide to go explore the debilitating bathhouse. 

The locker rooms smell of mold, and I can actually see it growing in the cracks. Deeper in, the scent of sulfur grows stronger. I have a hunch that Pelican Town is situated near a dormant volcano. Why else would there be a natural hot spring in the mountains? I wonder if the mines were shut down because of that geologic phenomenon. Did the ancient people dig too deep? Did they get too greedy? Did they awaken something they shouldn’t have? 

The steam rises from the large pool. And in the middle is Maru, floating naked on her back, eyes staring up at the crumbling ceiling. 

At first, I think she’s dead. She’s barely moving and I’m staring openly at her. But a slight swell of her chest confirms otherwise. I call out to her. She isn’t startled, and somehow, I realize that I haven’t been able to startle anyone in town this whole time. Maru looks at me, eyes mournful. 

“Do you hear them, at night?” she asks. 

At night, I hear whooping calls. Hoots and hollers. Celebration of the fairy folk. A dangerous place for humans. A warning. A feast. 

Outside of the bathhouse, someone has taken my camera equipment. I kick a rock and curse the sky.


	6. Heart Shaped Box

In my old bedroom, I find a box of memories. It’s filled with scraps of cloth, from Emily’s old projects, and old nail polishes. I take a pink colored one out and shake it a bit. The liquid oozes around the sides of the small glass bottle. I remember my mom teaching me how to paint nails. Now I think about how nails are all hardened, dead skin cells. 

“I like that color.” Emily, bless her for trying, is complimenting my new manicure as I reach for the salad at the table. 

“It matches my bracelet.” And it does. The pink of the polish is exactly the color of the tiny moonstones embedded in the family heirloom. 

Emily has never given me grief about this bracelet. She’s the older sister, if I was the older sibling, I would have assumed that all family heirlooms should be passed to me first. But Emily acts as if the bracelet was always meant for me. She even shows me the initials of our great-great- great grandmother etched into the silver. 

After dinner, Emily has a rare night off. She decides we need to bond. So, she pops in old home videos. We watch years of life flash on the television screen. Emily and Dad pointing out birds. Mom reading stories and taking us to the beach. I’m building a sandcastle and decorating it with seashells. There’s even one of us learning to ride bikes. In every video, I notice the lightness in our eyes. The ease and comfort as we all fall into each other. 

Emily is tearing up and excuses herself for the night. I am sitting like a stone gargoyle on the couch, knees clutched to my chest. The screen has changed from home videos to that grainy white screen. I’m in the shrouded darkness of the living room, the only light coming from a metal box on a stand. 

The knock at my window startles me. I turn to see my camera being waved around by a phantom hand. I pull on my shoes and walk outside, bracing myself for whatever it might be. 

Turns out it’s just Abigail and Sam, giggling like pixies as they wave my equipment around. 

“Had your fun now?” I ask them. 

“Not even close princess.” Abi says, and her eyes are not just playful, they’re sparked with lust. She’s up and sprinting, Sam too, and I follow. 

We are running into the dark of the woods. Sam and Abigail are giggling like mad. We reach a clearing and we’re all panting quite heavily. Out of breath. Out of our minds. Abi has hopped on a tree stump and is making whooping noises to the dark of the moon. Sam is cheering her on. 

“Didn’t know you had it in you to film something like this.” Abi taunts. Sam is setting up the camera now. 

“I don’t know how you expect me to answer that.” I’m circling her on the stump, feeling as much as dangerous as she thinks she is. 

“Do you want this?” Sam is next to me, and the pill in his hand glows blue like a precious gem. 

“Yes.” I know what I’m agreeing to. I think somewhere in the back of my mind, I’ve agreed to this before. 

The valley is quiet tonight. The stars are brighter. And I take the pill and dry swallow it whole. The grins on Sam and Abi’s faces stretch even wider. I start spinning, maybe physically. Maybe metaphysically. All I know is that I am looking straight up through the crown of the trees into the vastness of the stars. I trip, stumble backwards and strong arms catch me. 

Sam lowers me gently to the ground and begins combing his fingers through my hair as I settle my head in his lap. I hear the noise of a flute. Abi is walking over now, blocking my view of the universe. They’re both rubbing their hands all over me. I laugh, and giggle. They flutter their eyelashes against my bare skin. I writhe and moan. I feel like they’re taking tiny bites out of me, eating me whole. We come together, the three of us howling like wolves, and afterward I am lulled to sleep by a haunting melody. 

The next morning, I wake in the clearing. My clothes are in a pile on the ground. My camera is standing on the stump. Abi and Sam are nowhere to be found.


	7. Deck of Cards

“That’s the High Priestess.” Leah points out. She’s with Emily, and they’re doing a Tarot card reading --of all things-- at the kitchen table. I am freshly bathed, in the process of pulling my hair into a braid as Leah is in the process of pulling cards for Emily. 

“What does it mean?” Traces of my older sister’s quirks are coming back. Her obsession with the pseudo spiritual, her collection of minerals, her dream diary. All of these things seemed to have disappeared since I’ve been back (see I’m not the only person in this house that grief has changed). 

But Emily’s got stars in her eyes now, eagerly watching Leah’s long fingers shuffle the deck. I bet they’re sleeping together. 

“I’m gonna head out for the day.” I announce my exit, stuffing a piece of toast in my mouth and shouldering my equipment bag. I’m ravenous, but I don’t want Emily to see. 

After eating nearly a full five course meal for breakfast at the Saloon, I look over my weathered notebook. Who am I missing an interview from? 

Alex. Caroline. Jodi. Clint. Pam. Vincent. 

Alex will be difficult. He doesn’t like conflict. When we dated in high school it felt like I was arguing with a brick wall most days. Clint would be a bore. Pam would be passed out at this hour. This leaves me with Caroline or Jodi and Vincent. Who would I rather face? Abigail or Sam? 

I decided Sam is easier to take on. And Jodi and Vincent will be really important interviewees determined by the emotional proximity they have to Jas. 

Had. 

Past tense. 

Yoba, it’s getting so grim in town. 

I’m back on my street, fully fed. I knock on Jodi’s door, and it’s Sam who answers. Of course. 

“Hey, come on in.” he acts like he was expecting this. His face is tired and he’s still wearing pajama bottoms. I wonder if he remembers last night. I wonder where he and Abigail ran off to. I wonder if that was all a dream. He motions to the kitchen, where Jodi is washing dishes. 

I look at her back, how her shoulders are sort of withdrawn and the sunlight from the window casts her in silhouette. That might be a good shot. I turn to ask about Vincent, but Sam is already shutting himself in his room. 

So, I sneakily capture a bit of the scene. Then I decide to politely knock against the kitchen arch. 

Jodi turns quickly and sees me, camera in hand. 

“Put that away at once!” she orders. 

“Jodi, I come in peace!” 

“I will not have you in this house, blowing up this terrible story about Marnie’s grief! My sons have suffered enough with their father gone; we don’t need you to remind them of that precious little girl.” She is shaking from anger and resentment. 

I put away the camera (after I have captured that moment) and back up. 

“I’m sorry Jodi, really.”

“Get. Out.” Her teeth are barred like a wild animal’s. Mama bear protecting her cubs. 

I’m so frustrated by her lack of willingness to listen that I turn and storm out, only to storm back into my own house. 

Leah and Emily look up from a questionable position on the couch. 

“What does it mean?” I ask Leah. 

“What?” Her cheeks are pink, but she hasn’t moved from where she’s straddling my sister. 

“The High Priestess card. What does it mean?” 

Later, I reflect from the comfort of my bathtub. The steam looks like a veil. The High Priestess stands in that veil between the real and the beyond. What is seen and what is unseen. The conscious and unconscious realms. The space in between. 

Is that where Jas is? Hovering between the veils? Has she taken the pomegranate yet?


	8. Buzz

It takes a while before I can bring myself to walk back through the woods. But this afternoon is golden, and there are butterflies lazily floating on the heat and electrical currents that surge through the valley. The salmonberries are beginning to fruit on the bushes, a reminder of how much time is passing by. 

I called my editor last night to update him on my progress. 

“It’s difficult to get the good interviews out here.” 

“How are you doing though?” 

“I’m fine. I hate being home actually. I’m fine, but this place is reminding me why I left.” 

“What about it makes you feel that way?” 

“Is this a therapy session?” I know he can hear the brittleness in my laugh. “It’s just small, not a lot going on.” 

“Alright kiddo, all we need is a good profile on the town. We can get some interviews from the Chief of Police and the detectives on the case here in the city. Just get those good shots of your hometown. Make us feel something.” 

Right. That’s why I’m standing at the edge of the lake in the forest with my camera, trying to capture how “tranquil” this place is. Trying to “feel.” 

Except that it’s not tranquil and there’s a low buzzing in my ear, giving me only the feeling of annoyance. Are there flies out right now? A swarm of scarabs? June bugs? Fig beetles? It’s so loud that I can’t hear myself think and can only gnash my teeth together. 

So, I begin to walk, heels digging into the ground, fists curling with irritation. The buzzing sound gets louder and louder. It’s almost starting to sound like screeching. I cover my ears and run. I don’t know where I’m going but I trip on something hard and face plant into a set of steps. 

Groaning, I sit up, clutching my lip that’s bleeding where I bit it from the fall. The buzzing has stopped, but I have arrived on the doorstep of an ancient tower. 

The door is shut, but a huge metal knocker sits in the center of the wood. I take it and knock twice. It swings open with no hesitation. Maybe I shouldn’t walk in. But I do anyways. 

It’s dark and empty looking inside. I cough a little from the dust. 

“Jas?” I call out in vain. 

This tower feels like a tunnel. I can’t tell if I’m climbing up or down. All I know is that if I follow the stone steps, I’ll be led somewhere. I keep climbing, or descending? And it feels like I’m walking in a sublime space, somewhere between planets and galaxies. 

The light at the end of the tunnel (or top of the tower?) is a warm glowing orb. Illuminated by it is an ancient figure, wearing long purple robes. He looks up at me. 

“The spirits are following you Haley.” 

“How do you know my name?” 

“The children of the valley never leave.” 

I want to ask him more questions. But he’s drifting away, or maybe I am. I see a river of moonlight sweeping through the space. I want to cry out. Where is Jas? Where are my parents? 

I wake in my bed the next morning, unsure of how I got there. My pink nail polish is chipped, the blood on my bottom lip has dried, and there is dirt under my fingernails.


	9. Bodies

The funeral was set up under all strange accounts. They never found the bodies. And they couldn’t even tell Emily and I where the accident had taken place, or what the accident was. We just received a letter detailing that an accident had taken place and my mom and dad were never coming home again. 

I was sobbing, hysterical. Emily was standing up straighter, all that loose free energy had left her. And the months that followed, we fell into a pattern. She threw herself into work and seeking spiritual guidance. I threw myself at her. Or against a wall. Either one seemed to work. The point was that I had stopped working. Some days I couldn’t leave my bed. Other days, I stared blankly in my darkroom, enjoying the feeling of being swallowed whole. I resented Emily for moving on so fast. For being older, better, more hardworking. Someone our parents would be proud of. 

I withdrew so much that when I was accepted into a good film school, I didn’t tell anyone. The day I left home the weather was so misty out. I moved quietly through town, trying to escape without being seen. The mist formed shapes and shadows, ghosts that witnessed my cowardly flight. I only called Emily once I reached my new dorm room in the city. 

The children of the valley never leave. 

The Children of the Valley. 

The Children. 

Jas. 

I remember reading about sacrifice to appease the gods long ago. An innocent lamb, a prisoner captured, an honor worthy of whomever volunteered. Every option ended the same. In blood and glory, for some unknown force. A small detail that humans tried to use to control their outcomes in life. 

Was that what I was thinking about, when I would don the frilly white dress each spring? When I would dance, not for the town but the gods? When I thought about how honorable it’d be to be chosen, to be special? 

Everyone is always thinking that I need attention. They’re right of course, but I don’t need _their_ attention. I need to know that I can change the outcomes in this life. I need to know that I’m a special one, a chosen one. 

It’s what every action I’ve taken thus far has described. Look at me, oh ancient ones from the heavens and underworlds. Look at what I present to you. Youth and sorrow. Innocence and sex. I smell of rotting flowers and sour wine. Take my gifts. 

The small shrine in front of me is made of stone. I light the candle on it. There are flowers, and stuffed animals and ribbons. So many green ribbons for Jas. 

Her face stares back at me. Unflinching. Unapologetic. Unforgivable.


	10. The Last Dance of the Flower Queen

It’s time to film one of the town traditions. I think it’ll be perfect for this documentary. A little sample for the audience of “This is just what my town DOES.” 

I fear that I am becoming a little more unhinged than normal. My skin looks drab with exhaustion from dreams that don’t feel like dreams and more like journeys. My hair is limp, and kind of greasy, even though I have run a comb with shampoo and conditioner through it more than once. I think the reason Emily is so thin is because she eats things like lentils and leaves, which is what leads me to believe that I’ve lost weight because of her diet. Though I can’t remember really eating much after that last breakfast at the Saloon. 

I can’t remember a lot actually. I look through the proof on my camera and the evidence is there. All of it. The interviews. The forest. The clearing. 

But it’s nearly the end of spring. Have I been here a whole season? Have I been here, the whole time? My life in the city feels so far away, like a dream. 

The living room is strewn with garments. Emily is working overtime to make sure the measurements are ready for everyone. She looks up at me and smiles. It’s warm and yet…there’s a slight mysteriousness that passes through. A trickster smile. 

But she’s holding up a gauzy white dress. 

“This is yours. Put it on so that I can make the measurements.” 

In my room, I slink it over my bare body. It’s opaque enough that no one has ever been able to tell that I wore it completely naked underneath all of these years. But as Emily bustles into my room to pin parts of it, it occurs to me that maybe she might have known. She might have known about all of it, all along. 

She is handing me something. 

I look down and it’s a green ribbon. 

“In honor of Jas, our Flower Queen gets to wear this today.” 

“I’m still the Flower Queen?” I ask. 

“You’ve never stopped being it.” Is Emily’s reply. 

I tie the ribbon around my neck, with the bow in front. 

The clearing in the forest is full of ribbons and flowers. There are marigolds and everlastings for reverence. There are snapdragons for deviousness and grace. There are poppies, for sleep, peace and death. Forget-me-nots line the path, for memory. 

“What does this festival mean to you?” Leah asks me. 

For once, I am not behind the camera. I am in front of it, clad in my Flower Dance dress, green ribbon front and center. 

“It’s the perfect time for our town to mourn the passing of Spring.” I say. For some reason, this doesn’t bother Leah. She already knows this tradition. 

“How do you mourn it?” She asks. 

“We dance.” I respond. 

The camera is set up at the perfect angle to view the entire Dance. The residents line themselves up in two opposing rows. The music begins and knees start to bend. Hands briefly touch as everyone winds around each other. Spiraling around and around in an intricate pattern, the villagers of Pelican Town shape an infinity symbol. The music softens, and the dancers break apart. 

This is my cue. 

I am led to the middle of the clearing by Vincent. He looks older; losing a best friend might do that to you. 

He kisses my hand and I curtsey to him. He backs out of the clearing. 

And I begin my dance. 

The steps I have not forgotten. I am barefoot and twirling. I am raising my arms up high. I am leaping and spinning. Then the part of the dance that has always felt primal begins. The drums get louder and the villagers begin to scream. 

I leap and I spin. 

The villagers scream. 

I twirl and I reach. 

The villagers scream. 

I’m not sure how long it goes on for. But I feel blisters forming on the balls of my feet. I feel my twirls and leaps beginning to falter. I take a misstep and stumble. The drums beat on. I fall back into the dance, ignoring the protest of my limbs. 

It is nightfall, and the bonfire has started. I am still dancing to the beat of the drums. The villagers are silent watching me now. I see faces: Emily’s, Alex’s, Marnie’s, Shane’s. I see Elliott, and Leah. I see Sebastian, Abigail and Sam. I see them all watching, the intensity of their eyes never wavering as I leap and twirl. 

I see Jas, in the corner, watching. 

I see my parents. 

The drums are beating faster now, and I am struggling to keep up with the pace. The grass is slick with the blood from my blistering and cut feet. I am dancing, and I am slipping. 

I cry out and fall, not onto the grass but into the earth. 

And suddenly I’m floating in space, looking through a veil. 

On earth the people of Pelican Town are humming quietly. A mournful song is being played. I see my body crumpled on the lawn. Then I see Jas, and she’s walking up to the veil. She reaches through and pulls the ribbon around my neck loose. 

“Thank you.” She whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> Works that inspired this other than Stardew Valley: Into the Woods, Sharp Objects, Her Body and Other Parties, The Lottery, Annihilation, Midsommar, In a Dark, Dark Room and Other Scary Stories, Classic Greek Myth-Persephone
> 
> I'm trying to prove to myself that I can write pretty and ugly and everything in between. Let me know what you think.


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